Category Archives: Listing

A Montana Nemesis Bird in Maine (Braden’s 2nd Report from Maine)

One thing that surprised me about the birds in Maine is that while many of the state’s breeding birds are different from Montana’s (obviously—did you read the warbler post?), many of Maine’s year-round and winter birds are the same since Bangor, Maine and Missoula, Montana are at very similar latitudes. This means that I can chase birds like Northern Shrike and Snow Bunting in both states, and I will be doing so given that I’ll be spending a portion of my winters in both states over the next four years! Many of the nemeses I had in Montana also carry over, including one that I just happened into while checking my eBird alerts last week.

If you read my dad’s and my blogs last fall, you know that we worked our butts off to get shorebirds in western Montana. While we did find quite a few, our lists still contained a massive hole by the end of shorebird season: American Golden-Plover. We went to the place that they were most frequently-reported in the state (Pablo National Wildlife Refuge) at least four times, just missing the birds by a few days each time. Ironically, I already had seen the other two species of golden-plovers: Pacific (which I got in Hawaii) and European (which I got in Iceland), despite living within the range of American. So when an American showed up on a mudflat less than an hour from the University of Maine, I began talking to everyone I knew that had a car. I convinced Hayden and Nick, two sophomores and fellow nature-lovers I’d gotten to know during the past few months, to make the trip to Sebasticook Lake with me, and that Saturday we got up early and headed west.

**Okay, this isn’t an American Black Duck—but maybe it should be! Have you ever seen a Mallard with such a black head?** **We’re thinking some kind of hybrid, but feel free to weigh in!**

Once we arrived at the lake we started pulling off at every possible point to scan the water and shoreline for shorebirds, waterfowl or anything else that happened to show up. After all, my Maine list is still fairly short, so many common species would still be new for me within the state. In one bay we found a pretty large flock of ducks including some Northern Shovelers that should’ve been much further south and seven American Black Ducks, which were lifers for me!

A few stops later, we found ourselves staring at a massive field of half-frozen mud. The plover had been reported here, along with several dozen Snow Buntings, which I would never pass up the chance to see. Lacking a spotting scope, the three of us just began walking across the mudflat towards the south end. While I scanned the area for shorebirds, Hayden and Nick marvelled over the freshwater mussels and snails that had been exposed by the lake’s receding water. The two boys were Marine Science majors, and in the absence of birds, they taught me a whole lot about freshwater and marine ecosystems. After getting to the other side of the mudflat without seeing anything other than the usual suspects (Ring-billed Gull, Great Blue Heron, Bald Eagle, Double-crested Cormorant), we turned around and began the trudge back to the car. However, upon turning around both me and Nick spotted a small bird lift off on the opposite shore from us. After finding it in my binoculars I concluded that it was definitely a shorebird, but much too far away to distinguish anything else. We saw where it landed though, and began walking, slightly more quickly than before, in that direction.

**I had to chase American Golden-Plovers from one end of the country to the other, but finally found one!**

About fifteen minutes later we got there. All three of us began scanning the mudflats, but finding the bird seemed a bit hopeless. For one, it was a small brown bird hiding amongst a large brown background. And secondly, it easily could have flown away during our trek to where I’d last seen it land. In a last attempt, I played some American Golden-Plover calls on my phone. Suddenly, me and Hayden spotted movement about twenty yards in front of me. I raised my binoculars and there it was: my number one nemesis bird for the last year! The bird was sporting a nice golden-brown nonbreeding plumage and foraging around a log embedded in lake muck, and gave me the impression of a very dainty Black-bellied Plover, which is, taxonomically, basically what it is! I stood in place for at least twenty minutes, firing off photos and admiring the bird that we’d somehow just found. At one point I turned around to see that two more birders had set up their scope behind us and were watching it! It also took at least ten minutes to discover it, but at some point a Pectoral Sandpiper (another late migrant) had joined the plover and was foraging alongside it, although I didn’t pay this second bird very much attention. Eventually I could detect Hayden and Nick getting bored, so I said goodbye to the plover, briefly introduced myself to the other birders (who turned out to be graduate students at the University of Maine!), then we headed out. After a few more spots to try for Snow Buntings, which we did not find, we headed back to campus.

**Hey, where did that Pectoral Sandpiper come from? It was a nice bonus to discover it next to the the AMGP!**

A few days later, me and Hayden found ourselves in a car with those two grad students we’d met at the American Golden-Plover stakeout! I’d gotten in contact with Liam Berigan after hearing that he and Meredith Lewis were going down to Rockland, Maine to chase the Barnacle Goose (either a Code 3 or 4 for the ABA) that had shown up at an elementary school the week before. We decided to carpool, and were now spending our Veteran’s Day driving down the coastal Highway One for the goose. Once in Rockland, we rolled up to the school and immediately spotted the rarity—one that at least fifty people had chased throughout the week—feeding in a field with a few dozen Canada Geese. The goose was smaller than the Canadas, with a much cooler color template and a tiny black visor. Despite the fact that I’d seen the species before in Svalbard and Iceland, I still ogled at it alongside Hayden, Meredith and Liam, for all of whom it was a lifer. It was one of the easiest chases I’d ever participated in.

**Now that’s one good-lookin’ goose—and an ABA rarity to boot! Let’s honk for Barnacle Geese!**

We hit a coffee shop in Rockland to celebrate, then headed to the coast, which was about a hundred yards away, to look for sea ducks. We found a pair of Surf Scoters and several Black Guillemots in the harbor, then scoped a raft of Common Eider and not one, not two but seven Common Loons from the Owl’s Head Lighthouse. On the way back to campus, we stopped at a lake to try and get Ruddy Duck for Meredith and Liam’s year lists. We missed the ducks but saw a large number of coots, which was unusual so far north in Maine, plus two Bonaparte’s Gulls and a Mallard with a deformed head!

Riding on last week’s high, I decided to hit the Cornfield Loop this morning. After the warblers had left the state, the hotspot’s numbers had fallen dramatically, so I hadn’t been in several weeks. However, this morning started off with a lone Bohemian Waxwing perched atop a tree in the Littlefield Garden, one of the first seen in the state this fall! In the marsh I had a late flyover American Pipit, another state bird for me, and the walk concluded with a cloud of Snow Buntings lifting off the western side of the field, making their bubbly calls as they flew over my dorm and out of sight! Despite the fact that Snow Buntings are more common in Maine than in Montana, they lifted my spirits and continue to enforce that fact that birding doesn’t slow down in winter. I’m excited to see what’s next!

Rare Bird Hat Trick!

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In my last blog, My Accidental Big Year, I recounted my fun birding adventures with some of Houston’s top birders in my quest to “accidentally” break my Big Year record of 336 ABA species. Even as I posted that blog, I harbored serious doubts if I could do it. However, after this week’s—dare I call them shocking?—events, I am more optimistic. It all started when I got a great email from Will Sebern, who had read my last blog and asked if I had gotten an Anna’s Hummingbird for the year and, if not, would I like to come over and see the one visiting his feeder. The answer: No and a resounding Yes! Less than 24 hours later, I was pleasantly chatting with Will on his porch admiring a gorgeous beauty sipping at his feeder. Ka-ching! My year count rose to 328—only nine short of my goal! Thank you, Will! (Note, I picked up number 327—Woodhouse’s Scrub-Jay— during a daddy-daughter trip to Salt Lake City last week!)

**Anna’s Hummingbirds sweep through western Montana every year, but Braden nor I had ever seen one—until my surprise invitation from Will Sebern!**

That said, nine new Year Birds in Montana—in winter—was not a small number. For one thing, I was not willing to race everywhere across the state to chase birds. Burning up gasoline to see birds, birds that are directly harmed by carbon dioxide emissions, has become more and more of a concern for me and other birders. I was willing, though, to travel an hour or two, especially if I could carpool with others. “Maybe,” I thought, “I might be able to run into two or three rarities fairly close to Missoula,” and began eyeing eBird rare bird alerts. During my trip to Texas, I missed quite a few opportunities, but then, a few days ago, Montana eBirder Sharon Dewart-Hansen posted a picture of a Long-tailed Duck at Brown’s Lake only an hour from Missoula! I couldn’t go that day or the next, but called Braden and asked, “Do you think it will still be there tomorrow?” He answered, “Well, ducks often stick around for a while. I’ll bet it will.”

**One of the delights of our day was the first sightings of so many of Montana’s western winter birds—including this immature Northern Shrike!**

I fired off a text to several local birders to see if they wanted to join me—and no one could make it. “That’s okay,” I thought. “I’ll take the dog and we’ll have a good time whether or not we see anything.” The next morning, though, Steve Flood texted that he could make it after all. We rendezvoused at the truck stop in Bonner and merrily headed up Highway 200.

Arriving at Brown’s Lake, a surprise flock of Common Redpolls greeted us, but though we saw some cool grebes and ducks, THE duck was nowhere in sight at our first stop. We kept circling the lake, though, and spotted a suspicious critter near the campground. I hit the brakes. “Is that it?” Steve answered, “I think it is!” Sure enough, the Long-tailed Duck paddled only fifty feet offshore. The duck, however, was just the beginning. At the campground, Steve found three distant Pacific Loons while I spotted two gulls that turned out to be Bonaparte’s Gulls. A pair of American Tree Swallows—the first of winter—put an accent on our finds.

**Seeing only my second Long-tailed Duck ever will long lodge itself in my memory banks. Never did I suspect it would be the first of three Big Year birds Steve Flood and I would see that day!**

Elated with our finds, we headed out along the backroads behind Brown’s Lake, which I had never birded, but Steve knew well. More surprises greeted us including a bevy of other new winter arrivals including my first Rough-legged Hawks, Bohemian Waxwings, and Northern Shrikes of the season! Since we were on a roll, I asked, “Hey Steve, you want to take a quick run up to Seeley Lake on our way home?” Steve was game. We turned right at Clearwater Junction and twenty minutes later pulled into the River Point picnic area on the lake’s west side. I had few expectations, but we saw Common Loons, Western Grebes, Hooded Mergansers, and another surprise flock of Common Redpolls. Then, looking through his scope, Steve said, “I have a present for you.” I peered into the eyepiece and saw . . . A beautiful Pacific Loon! Er, check that . . .

**Birding with top-notch birder Steve Flood proved not only a way to learn a lot and help reduce our carbon footprints, it was a great way to make a new friend!**

It was the same Red-throated Loon Steve had discovered a couple of weeks before! Neither of us had any idea it would still be around, and it capped a remarkable day, one that not only netted me three new Big Year birds, but almost every winter bird that Braden and I work hard to find every year. Well, okay, except for Snowy Owls, Great Gray Owls, Lapland Longspurs, and Snow Buntings. You’ve got to save something for later, right? Even better, I felt like I’d made a new friend in Steve, who is not only an excellent birder, but a pretty darned good guy! Once again, it brings up the adage, “In birding, you just never know—but you won’t unless you keep getting out there!”

My Accidental Big Year

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If you’ve been a loyal fan of FatherSonBirding, you probably know about Braden’s and my 2016 Big Year in which we saw 337 species in the American Birding Association (ABA) region in a calendar year. Since then, we have never set out to topple that record even though, with our vastly improved birding skills and knowledge, it would be a relatively easy thing to do. In fact, a couple of times we have come perilously close without really trying thanks to trips to Texas, California, and in Braden’s case, a band trip to Hawaii. When I received two invitations to Texas for this fall, however, I thought to myself “You know, maybe it’s time to give this a shot.”

Mind you, it was still a long shot. When I left for The Hummerbird Celebration in September I had managed to scrape together only about 260 species in Montana, Idaho, and Washington for the year, and knew I’d have to go BIG that first trip to Texas. I did, scoring about fifty Year Birds—but still left myself more than 20 birds short in perhaps the toughest time of year to bird. “Still,” I thought, “if I can somehow get ten or twelve more species on my second Texas trip, I might get within striking distance.”

I knew I would need help.

I’ll take a blurry Lifer any day—including this beautiful Brown-headed Nuthatch. By the way, this bird brought my ABA Life List to 498 birds! Only two hours later, I got number 499, Monk Parakeet! What will be 500?

My trip last week unfolded when I was invited to give a keynote address at Houston Audubon’s (HAS) annual Avian Affair fundraising gala (more on that in my next post). As you probably know I love HAS and was honored to accept, but I brazenly asked my hosts if there was a chance anyone could take me birding when I arrived. Before I knew it, a team of expert birders, all HAS board members, had been assembled with the express goal of helping me tackle my Texas “needs” list! In fact, within twenty minutes of my arrival, Bill Matthews picked me up at the airport and whisked me off to our first stop, the W.G. Jones State Forest—home to some of the state’s most accessible Red-cockaded Woodpeckers.

To be honest, I didn’t think we’d find the RCWOs since they can forage over a large area, but I was also hoping for a Life Bird, Brown-headed Nuthatch. As we began walking around the forest, we found no woodpeckers near their roosting trees, so decided to take a longer walk down a trail. Very little stirred, leaving me feeling that maybe we wouldn’t see much—until, that is, we had walked about half a mile. Then, all of a sudden, Eastern Bluebirds were flying everywhere. Other Year Birds soon surrounded us—Carolina Chickadees, a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, Tufted Titmice, Pine Warblers, and oh joy, Brown-headed Nuthatches!

My W.G. Jones eBird List.

Though Braden and I had seen Monk Parakeets in Israel before the pandemic, this was my first ABA Monk Parakeet. Bill Matthews mentioned that the severe freeze in Texas earlier in the year had pared down the parakeets’ numbers significantly.

We left without RCWOs, but I was elated with our finds. Bill hadn’t finished with me, though, as we stopped by a roosting Eastern Screech-Owl in a neighborhood nesting box and two Monk Parakeets behind his wife’s studio. By this time, Bill’s fellow board member and well-known bird guide Glenn Olsen joined us, so after the parakeets, we adjourned to Molina’s Cantina for some great Tex-Mex food and to plan our next day’s conquests. Unfortunately, the next day proved a lot tougher than the first, but we still were able to hear a Limpkin—a rare visitor to Texas—at Sheldon Lake, and see some incredibly cool Brown Boobies on a “tower of power” at Baytown Nature Center, accompanied by yet another great birder and HAS board member, Skip Almoney.

**World’s Most Cooperative Owl? This Eastern Screech just may take the prize!**

With a total of 8 Year Birds, I was fairly satisfied as I actually did some work the following day, speaking to fifth-graders at Western Academy—and saw Year Bird #9, Scaly-breasted Munias! Glenn Olsen was not satisfied, however, so on my last morning, he picked me up early before my flight and we headed back out to W.G. Jones, meeting up with another great HAS board member, Eric Mayer, out at the site. Again, I didn’t think we’d see the woodpeckers and we didn’t. After an hour, in fact, it was time to head back to the car so Glenn could take me to the airport. As we approached the parking area, though, Glenn shouted, “Woodpecker!” I got my binoculars on a black-and-white bird landing on a pine tree and guess what? Red-cockaded Woodpecker! It was a great way to finish up a great trip, and left me with a flock of wonderful new friends—and only 11 birds to break my record. Will I make it? Good question. While in Texas, I missed four or five migrating rarities in Montana and it appears they have left the state. I will keep up my quest, however, so stay tuned!

**I was a doubter, but this Red-cockaded Woodpecker really wanted me to break my Big Year record!**

Going Cuckoo for Fall Warblers in Texas

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In a remarkably fun coincidence, as Braden was immersing himself in Life Birds migrating through Maine, I happened to be observing migrating songbirds in Texas following my recent trip to the HummerBird Celebration in Fulton-Rockport. For the trip, I had a number of goals, including shorebirds and raptors, but seeing migrating warblers perched at the top of my list.

Departing Rockport after HummerBird, I immediately headed to what has become a second home for us while in Texas: Winnie. Winnie is not a lot to write home about, a small town dominated by fast food joints, gas stations, hotels, and donut shops. So why go? Simple. It is surrounded by incredible birding including High Island, the Bolivar Peninsula, Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, and my first destination upon waking the next morning: Sabine Woods.

**Because it takes more effort to reach, Sabine Woods is less visited than High Island, but it can offer up a delicious smorgasbord of birding during migration seasons.**

Birders usually flock to coastal Texas in April or May during the height of spring migration. This being fall, my expectations were tempered as I drove east to the vast petrochemical complex of Port Arthur and then south toward Sabine Woods, a tiny preserve owned by the Texas Ornithological Society. Only one other car was parked outside of the entrance and I soon met its owners, a nice birder couple from Austin. They, too, had just started birding, and while we chatted, we saw both Blue-gray Gnatcatchers and a Black-and-White Warbler, boosting my hopes for a productive morning.

**Less shy than most warblers, Blue-gray Gnatcatchers delight Braden and me wherever we find them!**

Setting off on my own, the woods seemed quiet except for some Blue Jays calling and the scuffling of hundreds of toads hopping through the dead leaves. After about a hundred yards, however, I suddenly saw a flash of yellow land on a branch and raised my binoculars. Prothonotary Warbler! I smiled because this was the first eastern warbler Braden and I ever saw together during our Big Year back in 2016. As I continued to walk, however, the birds were few and far between. I ended up at a marshier area in the back of the preserve and through some hard birding managed to find a Common Yellowthroat and, with the help of Merlin’s Sound ID, an Acadian Flycatcher. It wasn’t until I ran into Howard Davis, a volunteer from Golden Triangle Audubon, that my luck really began to change. He showed me one of the three drips on the property and, sure enough, I discovered a trio of warblers there: Black-and-White, Wilson’s, and Northern Parula. Still, these were all birds I had seen several times before, and I wanted something new. Something unusual!

**Drips—artificial water sources for birds—are a photographer’s friend, especially when it comes to photographing tiny, fast-moving warblers such as this Black-and-White.**

At another drip, Howard and a second birder pointed out the first great score of the day: my Lifer Painted Buntings! Sure, they happened to be females and/or juveniles, so I didn’t get to see the glorious breeding plumage of a male, but I was elated even as I headed off alone again, doubtful I’d see anything more. Then, near where I’d seen the Common Yellowthroat, I spotted another flash of yellow. I got my binoculars up just in time to focus on my first ever Canada Warbler—the thin necklace around the throat a giveaway for the ID! Walking farther, my luck continued as I got a great look at my first Hooded Warbler since 2016.

By this time I’d been birding hard for three-and-a-half hours, so I sat under a tree near the entrance to review my final eBird list and enjoy the Blue-gray Gnatcatchers that frequented the clearing. As I sat there, though, I spotted something large and gray in a nearby tree. At first I thought it might be a jay or dove. As I stared at its partially-concealed form, however, my previous study paid off and a bolt of recognition split my skull: Yellow-billed Cuckoo! It was a great way to wrap up an inspiring session. Braden and I had unsuccessfully searched for cuckoos many times in Montana and Texas without success. Suddenly, to have one appear right in front of me, well, I felt I had earned it!

Sneed’s Sabine Woods List

**My Lifer Yellow-billed Cuckoo was totally absent from my radar—and put a delightful exclamation mark on a productive morning of Fall birding.**

Note: Only days before my visit, a group of birders had counted twenty species of warblers in Sabine Woods. Such sightings and our own experiences are really changing Braden’s and my opinions of fall birding. While we used to pretty much write off the fall, it has now become one of our favorite birding seasons, whether in Maine, Texas, or Montana.

100-Bird Challenge Update: Shorebirds and Songbirds

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As you, our loyal readers, know, I (Sneed) have set a 100-species challenge for myself while undertaking my new temporary job driving truck for the Missoula Fire Cache (which vehemently regrets all association with me and will deny knowing me in any way if asked). As you’ll recall, 100 species may not sound like a lot, but in August—arguably one of the year’s worst birding months—and given the limitations of where I can go, it’s actually quite a lofty ambition pour moi. After all, my birding must be limited to what I can see while driving or during quick rest breaks just off my routes. As of two weeks ago (see Birding by 5-Ton Truck: a 100-Bird Quest), I had reached 59 species, but had picked off most of my easy targets and was desperately in need of large numbers of “watery” birds if I even dreamed of getting close to 100. It didn’t seem likely, but Lo! I have recently happened into some luck!

One happy circumstance is that I have been sent to several locations that take me by Warm Springs, one of Montana’s most famous birding locales. I can’t explore much of it during a quick break, but one nice pond sits just off the interstate offramp and I’ve been checking it out. The pond has yielded consistent Wilson’s Phalaropes, but also a few nice ducks such as Wood Ducks and Common Goldeneyes. On my last trip, though, I decided to forgo Warm Springs and instead try Racetrack Pond just up the road. The place often doesn’t yield a lot of birds, but at the far, northern end I pulled over and was delighted to find some suspicious wading birds—Greater Yellowlegs! Yeah! Then, a Black-necked Stilt flew in! Searching harder, I found more than twenty of this unreported species. Shorebird season has begun!

**I was totally delighted to find not only Greater Yellowlegs, but Black-necked Stilts at this seldom-birded pond near Warm Springs.**

This week, I ran a delivery to the Wenatchee (Washington) fire cache. Having scoured eBird ahead of time for possible quick bird stops, I pulled over at a place called Reardan Ponds north of Spokane. I quickly added Eared Grebes and American Coots to my 100-bird list, but was a bit underwhelmed by other birds. On a whim, I crossed the road to discover a little mudflat—and even better, some kind of shorebird in it! Unfortunately, it quickly scooted into the reeds before I could identify it. Argh!

**Patience can pay off, as this great look at a Solitary Sandpiper proved.**

I decided to give it five minutes, and to my delight a Solitary Sandpiper suddenly appeared in front of me—perhaps the best look ever I’ve had of these awesome birds. “But that’s not what I saw earlier, was it?” I asked myself. Then, I spotted not one, but two, small birds in the “peeps” category—small sandpipers of several different varieties. Peeps are very hard to ID, but these two gave me a nice long look, and even more important, some good photos. Later that night, I determined that they were Semipalmated Sandpipers! Not only a GREAT bird for my list, but a Year Bird to boot! However, still not sure of my ID, I posted a photo to the Montana Bird Discussioin Group and talked it over with Braden. Turns out, they weren’t Semis at all, but Least Sandpipers, with mud on their legs covering up their diagnostic yellow colors. I tell you, those peeps are tough, but I was still delighted with the discovery—and learned a lot to boot! UPDATE: So, this still isn’t 100% resolved. Another highly-respected MT birder makes some good points that the birds below are Semis after all! What do YOU think?

Peeps are notoriously difficult to ID, but thanks to some decent photos and help from other birders, I eventually determined that these were Least Sandpipers—or maybe not! Other experts are weighing in that my original ID of Semipalmated Sandpipers may be correct after all!

As a bonus, the next day, returning to Missoula, I added several new songbirds—a category I’d about given up on for my goal. At a little park in St. Regis, I not only got Cordilleran Flycatcher, but Red Crossbills, and a Red-eyed Vireo, a bird I hadn’t dared hope for. So where does that leave me? Well, as of today, I have reached exactly 80, count ‘em, EIGHTY species! Will I make it to 100? It’s still going to be tough. Not only am I running out of likely birds, I won’t be able to drive for the next couple of weeks, and the season may be over when I get back. Never fear, though, I will let you, our loyal readers, know of any further success! Keep on birding!